


Rain Dance

by ArianShep



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Crying, F/M, Gen, Sad, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:55:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28371249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArianShep/pseuds/ArianShep
Summary: this short fic isalsoalmost old enough to drink, being written in 2001. i'm honestly unsure whether or not it's ever been published to the general public, given my original author's note. this may actually be its debut.post-Wrecked.this was originally going to be the start of an AU, especially after the HORRIBLE, NO-GOOD, VERY-BAD way in which the writers and Whedon steered the series. but, as is apparently a pattern with me, i gave up after the angst/frustration quotient grew too dire.
Relationships: Spike/Buffy Summers
Kudos: 4





	Rain Dance

Willow had left the stereo on.

Left it on repeat even. How annoying is that?

I don't know when she left. I couldn't sleep; I know she couldn't sleep. I figured: coffee, yes? Maybe even another talk. Maybe...maybe discuss if we could call Tara.

 _When_ we'd call Tara.

But she's gone. Checked the room. And Dawn fast asleep, the codeine-enhanced sleep of the recently-fractured. Only me up, prowling the house, looking for-

Willow. Only Willow. 

(Who else would I be looking for?)

To talk. 

(Only talk.)

But she'd gone out at sunrise, evidently.

And left the stereo on.

I know she must have done it because I recognized the singer. Dawn's skirting the edges of pop, but Willow and Tara went through the folk stages, with a long pause at this singer's music. Other "womyn power" groups, and lesbian singers attracted them, but I'd heard a lot of Melissa Ethridge in the past.

Not like I was home a lot. But the music would be on when I left. When I got back, sometimes. Late at night, soft behind the giggling.

_It was a bloody revelation.  
I admit it. I love you. You know it.  
Not love.  
Not yet.  
You felt something last night._

Did I? Finally?

Did I finally feel something last night? I can't even tell Willow. She loves so intensely: all her heart, all her soul. I should have gotten it, this; I should have known. When Oz left, her magic went haywire. Why should now be any different?

I bet Giles knew...if it was happening before. Why didn't he say anything? Why didn't someone tell me?

Why didn't I see it?

It's worse now, because she's so much stronger.

Say it to yourself, even if only once.

**Darker.**

Enough.

Love was like that with Angel, wasn't it? It was, I think. Maybe.

Then again, maybe not.

A lot from before is fuzzy.

Angel - he looked at me, eyes all dark and loving. Like I was demon and deity together. He couldn't bear to touch me, which was fine, because I realized I couldn't bear having him do it. Even the talking didn't work. Even the words wouldn't reach.

It hurts.

Everything hurts. Still.

Except...

The stereo is still playing. God, I should just shut it off.

What song had to play thirty times tonight? What lyrics got Willow through the night, greeted her this morning? It has a low drumbeat, and keyboard...the second verse has started, I think...

_Walking on the edge...of rage and understanding...  
Between the black and white.  
This child is so angry, alone here tonight.  
A longing, desperation, leads me to believe:  
With all my shields and protection, it's only me I deceive...  
Dance without sleeping...I'll dance without fear.  
Dance without senses, no message I hear.  
Dance without sleeping, I'll dance til I'm numb.  
Dance til I think I can overcome._

I felt the tears before I admitted them. They were just there.

And they hurt. Big surprise. I'd known they would.

Everything did.

_Fathers hold on and they never go-  
Mothers hold on and they never go-_

Ohgod...

_Lovers hold on and they never go-  
Lovers, they come and they never go..._

It hurts so much.

\--

The noise woke Dawn. She had no idea what was going on for about twenty seconds, and then the faint music registered. Ok, that hadn't woken her; she'd gotten way used to it over the summer. There was another sound though. She rubbed her eyes. Something weird. A cat? Duh, no cat. An emergency vehicle?

And, uh, OW. Dawn cradled her wrist as she struggled higher in bed.

That noise...

Was crying?

Dawn jerked the covers off her legs with her good arm and slid to her feet gingerly. She hobbled painfully to her door, which had been opened a careful crack; someone had checked on her. The music throbbed, low and plaintive; Dawn could almost feel it curling its way up the stairs. The intense sadness.

And that was someone sobbing. Willow, true to form.

Dawn spared a glance down the hall. Both bedroom doors were wide open.

Had Buffy left her alone again?

She took the stairs carefully, bare feet meeting wood and unbroken hand clutching the banister, afraid... and feeling it. She didn't want to be here with Willow. And she didn't want to be left alone anymore. She'd call Tara and beg her to come back, but Tara wouldn't do that while Willow-

Dawn would beg Tara to take her away too, then. Her eyes squeezed closed as she swung off the last step. She didn't know what she'd do or say if Willow was curled there, wailing.

After last night.

She opened her eyes, just a crack.

And gasped as she realized it was Buffy on the couch, Buffy crying.

_Mom ... died, and it's like you don't even care.  
Of course I care. How can you even think that?  
How can I not? You haven't even cried!_

Dawn suddenly and vividly felt that slap again. Winced as she remembered slapping Willow last night. Willow on the ground, sobbing. She wondered inanely who had slapped Buffy...

"Buffy..."

"Dawn!"

Buffy obviously tried to cover the tears, jumping off the sofa to attack the stereo, as if it were to blame. Dawn moved to intercept her, throwing her good arm around her, biting her lip as the broken wrist jarred against Buffy's stomach.

"Please. Please cry. Please talk to me!"

As her sister squirmed, Dawn became more desperate. She clung, and Buffy inadvertently knocked the cast. Dawn let out a little scream and let go.

"God, Dawn - I'm sorry!" Buffy was instantly all politeness, all concern, taking Dawn's good arm, leading her to the sofa.

The tears were gone, and again Buffy was wooden. Plastic. No, the robot had been warmer than this.

Dawn sighed and suggested breakfast.

And so the day started.

\--

Buffy forced herself to go through the "Help Wanted" ads one more time as Tara fussed over spell components behind her, dropping every other one on the floor. She wondered how long this was going to take, how long she'd have to pretend that she didn't resent the fact Dawn had demanded she make sure Tara was still there when she got home from school. She wondered how long she could stop herself from telling Tara that Willow had almost gotten Dawn killed last night, how long she could stop herself from starting to rage at her for never letting her know that Willow was so far gone...

There was so much anger inside, suddenly, that Buffy felt ill. And it was hard to read such tiny black print when it felt like the bitterness was seeping out of her skin.

It was also terribly inappropriate, because Tara was doing her a huge favor, and willing to keep quiet about it to boot.

She was de-inviting-

Buffy refused to even think the name, concentrating instead on controlling herself, forcing herself to smile slightly and turn to Tara, who was still fumbling in her bag.

"I'm s-sorry, Buffy. This w-went a lot f-faster with W-Willow."

God, she was nervous. Buffy felt the roiling anger shift targets, directing itself inwards. Bad Buffy, to blame anything on Tara. Bad Buffy to feel jealous that Dawn wanted Tara. Of course Dawn wanted Tara, who'd been there for her all summer. Tara, who'd moved out, but not moved on. Who refused to let not sleeping in the house end her relationship with Dawn. Who called. Who came by.

Of course Dawn loved her. Everyone else had abandoned her at one point or another. It was natural. When you're alone...

 _Don't_ go there.

\--

Tara was waiting patiently for a response, any response, but Buffy just sat quietly. She was staring intently at nothing, and a tear ran down one cheek. That lone tear, more than anything, tore at Tara. She dropped her bag again (this time on purpose), and moved to lay a hand on Buffy's shoulder. At her touch, the Slayer quivered, and suddenly jerked rigid.

"Look, I'm sorry for dragging you here for this. I-" Buffy stopped and bit her lip; forcing herself to rebuild several crumbling internal walls at once. She tried again. "If you don't finish, don't worry about it. It's not like-"

Tara waited silently. She'd been playing klutz for over a half hour, waiting to hear something from Buffy about why she wanted this done.

_Something's very wrong._

\--

Buffy took a deep breath. Why was talking about how she felt, if she felt, so hard? Why when she went to tell Dawn she loved her, did nothing come out? Why when she tried to tell Willow she loved her, even though she also was terribly disappointed in her, did nothing come out? Why, when Tara was obviously waiting for an explanation and was probably the one Scooby Buffy could trust to just listen, and not judge - to even be helpful, as she was now - did nothing come out?

"If I don't finish...? Buffy-" Tara moved to sit beside her on one of the stools. She again reached out and placed her hand tentatively on one shoulder. "You can tell me, you know, and I won't say anything to anyone. Ever."

Buffy looked up at her. She felt her insides revolt again, fear and anger and an infinite weakness that threatened to squash everything else, whirl her into not caring for anything. Ever. She opened her mouth-

And Dawn slammed joyously into the kitchen, rushing over to hug Tara with her good arm, to show off dozens of tiny inked messages on the cast. Tara exclaimed over each, as they read them aloud, together. But her eyes were on Buffy, as if she knew something was wrong. Had been wrong all along. Just not knowing what.

\--

The spell never did get finished, and it was night. Again.

Willow had never come home. Back. But she'd called. From her parents' house.

Which was all well and good, as far as Buffy was concerned. Right now, the less to worry about, the better.

She still had to patrol. Sacred duty, blah blah blah. So why did she desperately want to call Tara to go with her? Why did she tremble at the idea of leaving her non-sanctuaried house? It wasn't leaving Dawn alone; she'd gone with Tara. And the anger had faded, left behind a strange void-y relief that Buffy didn't want to examine too closely.

Tara would make sure she ate and studied. Tara would bring her home at the proper time. Tara might even put her to bed and sing her a lullaby and give her the correct amount of medicine to help her sleep.

But Tara was also Buffy's lifeline tonight. She'd told Tara she'd be back by midnight, no exceptions, right after she'd apologized profusely for the all-nighter earlier. Even as she'd brushed it off, Buffy had sensed that Tara had a hazy idea of what was going on, was putting two and two together and getting four. It would be a relief to tell someone. And it would be the worst sort of shame to tell anyone. If Tara figured it out...

She'd never say anything.

And yet it felt icky to realize that in an ideal world, she wanted Tara to babysit both her _and_ Dawn...

Buffy sighed and levered herself off the couch. It had been two nights now. He hadn't come. It was getting dark early; it had been dark for over an hour now. Dawn had been gone for at least a half.

If he was going to show up, he'd have done it already.

How close could she get to his crypt and not have him sense her, come out to get her? Should she just not patrol the cemetery at all tonight? Would Xander and Anya do it?

Buffy shook her head, snorted. Not without Willow. It was like her life was a huge jigsaw puzzle that someone had asked her to reassemble, only half the pieces were missing, or warped. Nothing fit anymore.

And she was stalling.

\--

A stake in each pocket, Buffy Summers sauntered through downtown. She'd considered trying to find Raak, put him down. Realized she'd need - help - to do it, gave up on the idea for tonight.

At this rate, barring deathly emergencies, she figured she could probably cover all the hot spots in three hours. Which would put her home well before the promised time. She could even try the want ads again, maybe watch a bit of television.

Buffy shook her head slightly. Get through this. Only the cemetery to go. And as she crossed over into the trees, Buffy felt him. Felt herself turn to welcome him.

Only it wasn't him.

Another vampire jumped out from behind a nearby tree and rushed her. She almost wanted to scream with annoyance. Yes, technically, this was what she was out her for, but couldn't they leave her alone?

She fended off his attack methodically. New. Very new. Which was good. If she kept encountering new ones, it meant she was, at least, holding status quo.

She wondered suddenly who was siring them, still. Might as well ask, though the vampires would never say.

Another clumsy grab, attempt to punch. She caught his fist and twisted his arm behind his back. "Um, I'm gonna stake you. I kind of have to, it's my job. But out of curiosity, who sired you? Killed you, fed you, and put you in the ground, I mean." She clarified it because in her experience the newly-dead ones just weren't that smart.

_Clawed her way out of a coffin, that's how._

One of the idiot's fists actually connected and she went down hard. Damn that jerk. Damn the fact that so much of what he'd said had sunk in, and seemed to resurface at the worst times. Enough of this.

One flip and backhand move later, there was a new pile of dust floating in the air around her. The vampire hadn't said a word, hadn't even grunted. Weird.

She felt the tingle as the clapping started. She whirled around.

"Nice work, luv."

_Who are you?  
You'll find out..._

"God, Spike. Get a new writer." Buffy resolutely turned toward home, holding herself together, arms wrapped around her sides.

Please leave me alone. Please. I can't do this. It hurts. It must be bad if it hurts this much.

Spike hurried to catch up with her and then said nothing. Just walked silently at her side.

Nearing the edge of the cemetery, Buffy stopped dead and whirled to face him. He flinched back and looked at her, surprised.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Spike blinked and stared at her as if she'd gone insane. "Walking you home. What does it look like I'm doing?"

Buffy wanted to scream. She grit her teeth. "I don't need you to walk me home. I don't _want_ you to walk me home. I just want to get home. Alone." She realized she was babbling, and bit her lip.

Spike snorted. "After that clumsy kill, I'll see you home. Your mind's not on what you're doing."

The anger began to build again. "And here you said it was 'nice'. Lie much?"

The easy grin - the one that always made her want to smack him - unraveled on his face.

"Figure of speech, pet. That fledgling shouldn't have even gotten in a punch, and you know it."

As was customary, Buffy ignored a statement which she would have had to admit was accurate, to rail at him about something else. "That's another thing - who is raising all these stupid fledglings? I ask and they make me dust them before saying anything. It isn't you, is it?"

\--

Spike just looked at her. Her breathing was too fast, her face was too flushed. For probably the hundreth time, his thoughts flashed back to that morning: her face, as she told him if he let anyone know she'd shagged him, she'd kill him. And she'd meant it. He wanted to kiss her. He knew better.

"I haven't sired anyone in years. Haven't wanted to sire anyone since...Cor, the witch." Spike blinked, and added, seemingly to himself - "Wouldn't that have been bloody interesting..."

Buffy narrowed her eyes and kicked out at him. She connected, and he went down. Instead of jumping to his feet and taking her on, as he could, as she wanted him too, he just rolled over on his back in the grass.

And laughed.

\--

Buffy eyed him suspiciously. She debated fleeing now, before he could get up, but it didn't make sense. Nothing she wanted - wanted to do - or ever did - seemed to make sense anymore. Why had she kicked him? Why did she want him to hit her back? She had a funny feeling she'd only done it to get what had come after the hitting the last time; she was afraid Spike knew-

"Ain't that easy, luv. While pacing the floor of my crypt last night, I decided that the next time you wanted to dance, you'd have to ask nicely."

Buffy's eyes widened and she instinctively kicked him again; her boot caught him solidly on his hip and he rolled with it, came up laughing still. Red rage flashed through her, and she barely stopped herself from jumping on him, pummeling him with both fists.

_I know you wanna dance...  
Dance without sleeping, I'll dance without fear-_

Stupid song.

\--

Spike had stopped laughing and was just staring up at her. Since she'd returned, he'd often caught the look of a trapped animal on her face. Most of the time, her face was a mask, a parody of what the real Buffy was supposed to look like. She never cried, nor laughed. She never screamed, or lost control. A grin split his face. Well, almost never...

But sometimes, underneath the mask, he could almost swear he saw the real Buffy, staring out at him like a frightened child. It made that place where he shouldn't feel anything tingle with something very close to - but it couldn't actually be - remorse. That he'd treated her so harshly, and intended to keep treating her that way until she cracked.

Could that be tonight?

Spike levered himself to his feet in one smooth motion and turned to her. She was still standing there, fists clenched, mouth clenched. Lord, her hair would be clenched if she could clench it.

"I'm not letting you walk home alone. If you don't like it, make me stay here."

_Stop!  
Make me..._

\--

Buffy turned abruptly and stalked away, step so quick it was just short of a jog. The most annoying, most persistent, vampire she'd ever met fell into step beside her.

_I'm in love with you-  
You're in love with pain!_

This just wasn't right. It wasn't right last night before Dawn had broken her wrist, and it wasn't right now. And why did everything hurt?

They reached Revello Drive in utter silence. They even reached the front door in silence. Buffy stopped short and turned to face Spike as he came up beside her.

He stepped around her. She made a small sound, objecting, as he reached under the mat, tsk-d, grabbed the key, and turned it in the front door lock. The panel swung inwards and he stuck his arm out.

It went in.

He turned back to face her, grinning. He held out the key.

"Just curious, not staying."

And he turned and began to walk away.

It hurt. Why did it hurt? Why?

"Spike-" Now what was she doing, dammit?

He stopped, turned, looked at her expectantly.

Buffy bit her lip. The pain welled inside of her, lapping at the edges, ready to burst the seams. One crack and the dam would go, and then what?

"Nothing."

\--

Spike sighed. And then regarded her with interest as she re-locked the front door without going in, walked off the stoop and around the back of the house.

Something was up, all right.

He followed.

She was sitting on the back porch, almost exactly as she had been a year earlier. The night he'd realized that - whatever it cost him - he'd protect her. He couldn't ever really hurt her. That in his mind and in his heart, she belonged to him. A bloody revelation indeed. She looked exactly the same, if one ignored the lack of tears. Alone and lost.

He sat down beside her. Same spot.

She ignored him for minutes. It felt like hours. Each one ticked by agonizingly slowly. It actually startled him when she spoke.

"The shotgun would have been less painful."

Spike sometimes thought he was beyond pain. Sometimes he thought that vampires became so accustomed to it that it just didn't register in all it's glory. Then he felt hers afresh and it stung like holy water. For her to say that, and mean it...

She meant it.

"I never could have done it. I loved you already then, you know."

Buffy moved beside him, away slightly, fidgeting.

_If you're in pain, or if you need anything - if I can do anything for you..._

"I wish you had. Wish I hadn't felt them all leave. Get brought back here just to feel this all over again."

Spike winced and sighed. "Buffy, you're alive now. Feel the pain and move past it. That's what living is." He turned toward her, bracing his back on one of the porch supports. "We did this already. I thought-" Spike stopped himself, on the verge of confessing to her that he'd hoped she'd come to enjoy life again, with him, at least for a few hours. Baiting her when she was angry was one thing, but when she looked ready to slit her wrists, it was quite another story.

She'd noticed his hesitation and looked over at him. "You thought what?"

He shook his head. Even if she wanted to hear it, he'd slit his own wrists before he opened up to her again, basically begging her to kick him down. Not now, not again.

They were quiet for a long time.

And then the stereo came on.

_I don't want to talk about it...  
Done enough I think...  
Don't want to spend more money, don't want another drink  
I would scratch out all the images, if I had the chance  
Don't ask me what I'm thinking - can't you see - I only want to...  
Dance without sleeping..._

\--

Inside, Willow gathered a few of her things, clothes mostly, studiously avoiding even touching her spell components or books. She tucked her laptop into the huge open duffel and bit her lip as the music filled the house.

\--

It was, perhaps, the supreme irony that Buffy had Willow to thank for finally cracking her open.

And Spike to thank for holding her while it happened.

~Finis.

**Author's Note:**

> my original notes on this fic included the following:
> 
> "OH GOD, NOT ANOTHER SONGFIC!" Ahem! Shut up. Where was I? oh yeah, I don't own any of the BtVS characters or any of the lyrics, nor do I intend to impinge on anyone's copyright. This was written purely for my own enjoyment, and it has sloppier than usual POV that I just haven't bothered to fix. If you're reading it, it means I gave you the link, so please don't redistribute it and potentially get me into trouble with anyone.
> 
> For Whiteotter, in part, because she made a point of saying Buffy hasn't cried. I'll point out now that she hasn't laughed, either, but that's another fic."
> 
> i did in fact edit this fic to clean up the various POV issues. sort of. maybe. ah well, just enjoy or not.


End file.
